Little Shadow
by thelittlestcrane
Summary: In which Red Hood has a little teenager stalking him around Gotham. [AU in which Jason in Red Hood but Tim was never Robin. JayTim. Chapters ARE NOT in chronological order.] (4/?)
1. Camera Shy

Jason sighs, wishing he'd gone with the domino tonight just so he could have the satisfaction of pinching the bridge of his nose. Instead, he presses the stock of his gun to the broad red of his helmet.

"Kid, go _home_."

There's a rustling from around the corner before a slim teenager peeks into the alleyway, an expensive looking camera hanging around his neck. Not the digital kind, but the big, bulky, vintage kind from back when Jason, or maybe even Dick, was Robin.

"…no," The teenager eventually says stubbornly, hiding himself again.

Jason sighs. This makes it the second night he's caught this kid out this _week_. Doesn't he have school or parents or something? He turns, striding to the mouth of the alley where the teen is peeking from. He hears a small squeak and a scuffle of shoes before he looks onto the main road, watching the teenager scamper off.

Well, at least he's _leaving_.

:::

Jason freezes when he hears a click. This time, he _can_ pinch the bridge of his nose. "_Kid_-!"

"I have a name," The boy says unhelpfully from the fire escape where he's sitting, decked out in a black hoodie and even blacker pants. In fact, the only color on the kid is his eyes. "It's Tim."

"Alright, _Tim_," Jason says darkly, "Why don't you run the fuck away before I shoot you?"

"You won't do that." Tim says, blinking, "You only kill bad guys."

"If you keep following me," Jason says with fake cheer, "I might make an exception."

"…no. I don't think you will." Tim shakes his head. "I won't get in the way. Just keep doing whatever it is you're doing."

"Tch. You have got to be kidding me," Jason grumbles to himself, "What do you even do with these pictures? Sell 'em?"

Tim looks horrified, "No!"

"So, what, you use these to get your jollies?"

Tim's thin eyebrows furrow, "They…they're _private_."

"So I don't have a right to know what you're usin' my face for?"

Tim blinks at him, mouth open, before he gets up and starts climbing up the fire escape like some kind of street monkey. Jason shakes his head as the boy disappears over the edge of the roof. There are weirdos, and then there are _weirdos_.

:::

Finding out where the teenager lives isn't actually that hard once Jason decides to try. His face is all over the Gotham Gazette – Tim Drake, heir to Drake enterprises, tested out of high school in record time, yada yada. The thing that _really_ intrigues him is how close the Drakes live to Wayne Manor, so he decides to pay a visit.

The family is out, the servants sent home, when Jason slips through the window that surveillance has told him is the teenagers. It's surprisingly bare – a simple bed, a clean dresser, and a pristine computer desk with no laptop on it.

Jason paces the perimeter of the room, opening the closet door to reveal a lot of black, fancy clothes that appear mostly untouched. He turns back around, kneeling down to peek under the bed. A single shoebox lies in the middle of the floor.

Bingo.

Jason pulls the box out, tossing the lid off to the side and blinking at what he finds. A handful of picture-size photo albums lay in the box. He picks one up, flipping open the cover. Small writing dictates the book as "B&R II," with a through-date in the bottom right corner.

Jason flips past the first few pages, slowing down when he gets a good look at the pictures. They're all _him_. Well, there's a heavy amount of Batman too, but the Robin in the book is all Jason.

"What the fuck?"

He picks up another, glancing at the inside label, "RH, B&R II(?)" except the question mark is scribbled out. It's not as surprising to find this album is filled with pictures of Red Hood. Some of the pictures have sticky notes on them with little scribbles, mostly dialogue.

The lights in the room flick on. "Who are yo..._u_?"

Jason glances over his shoulder, raising his eyebrow at the meager bat the teen is holding. He stands up, towering over the teenager, waving the album at him, "Is this what you do in your spare time, kid? Kind of socially pathetic, isn't it? _Scrapbooking_?"

"…please put that down," Timothy Drake lowers his bat, mouth almost in a pout.

"Do you know who I am? My name?" Jason demands, flipping the book closed.

Tim glances down, nodding slightly.

"How long?"

He gives a little shrug, "I knew you weren't…Dick, when you started on the streets. So I just…wanted to know who you were. And then you died…but then you came _back_, and…"

"And you know who Batman is? And Nightwing then, too?"

"Yeah."

"And you haven't _told_ anyone?" Jason shakes his head, "Why the hell not?"

"Don't have anyone to tell," Tim replies honestly. He shuffles his feet, looking nervous, "Please don't take those."

Jason glances down at the album. He scoffs, tossing it on the bed behind him, "You are one weird kid."

"I'm not a kid, I'm sixteen."

"Kid," Jason shrugs, "I don't want to see you following me around anymore. I don't know if you've got some kind of death wish jumping around rooftops without the right tools, but I ain't gonna be responsible for you."

"Wh…bu…" Tim frowns, "You can't tell me what to do."

"Try me, kid." Jason turns to leave through the window, "I dare you."

:::

Jason shakes his head as he rounds a corner, coming to a dead-end. Great. Just great. Now the thieves have even more ground on him and he has no idea what direction they went. He sighs, glancing around the empty alleyway.

There is silence. No camera noises or the soft scuffles of feet.

Jason sighs. "…Tim?" He calls, looking around.

It takes a moment, but he sees a shadow pass on the ground and looks up, unsurprised (and maybe a little glad?) to see Tim peeking over the edge of the roof, camera in one hand, eyes wary and questioning.

"The thieves?"

Tim blinks and points to the large dumpster against the back wall. Jason sighs, turning towards it. If the kid is going to be helpful, Jason may as well let him stick around.


	2. Don't Jump Through Windows

Jason curses as another glass shard is plucked from his back. His fingers clench the edge of the metal gurney as deft fingers dab an alcohol swab over the cut. "Sorry, sorry. 'm not very good at this."

Jason breathes through his nose slowly, "Better than nothing." He still can't lessen the tension in his shoulders though. "How many more?"

"Um…" He can almost hear the mental count, "Two more pieces that I can see. Anything else is too small."

"Fuck." Jason nearly bites off his tongue as another piece is yanked free of his skin. "Warn a guy!"

"Sorry! I just thought if you weren't focused on it…" There's a sigh, "You know, if you hadn't jumped through a window, this wouldn't even be happening right now."

"Shut up, Tim."

"I told you it was there and everything."

"_Tim_." Jason grunts as the (hopefully) final piece is pulled free.

"I'm just saying," Tim mumbles. He moves away from the gurney, metal tray full of bloodied glass pieces in his hands. He takes them to a nearby trashcan, dumping the pieces as Jason stretched his shoulders. "Don't put your shirt on yet. I still have to bandage you up."

Jason runs a hand through his sweaty hair. He still isn't sure if it was a good idea to let Tim into his most medically-capable safe house, but Tim's _here_, and he's helping, and he's not horrible at it. "Do your folks know you're in town?"

"My parents are out of country again." Tim shrugs, "It's not like they'd notice anyway. Big house. Easy to get lost in."

Jason hums as Tim walks back around, grabbing for the gauze and medical tape on the rolling stand. Jason stays as still as he can while Tim works. He knows the kid isn't any kind of experienced with bandaging people up, and he doesn't want to risk fucking up his own back because he's impatient.

"Get any good shots tonight?"

He can practically feel Tim's frown, "I wish you'd stop making fun of me for that."

"You run around with a giant-ass camera to take pictures of men in tights. It's a little weird."

"I'm not that weird. I don't _do_ anything with them." Tim takes a step back. "I'm done."

Jason stretches again, reaching for his shirt. He pulls it over his head, redressing as Tim puts the supplies back where he found them. "Has Batman caught you yet?"

"No." Tim replies stubbornly.

"He's going to," Jason warns, "Eventually."

Tim shrugs, "Is that all you needed?"

"Why? Got a hot date?"

Tim frowns again, "Stop making fun of me."

"Well, do you?" Jason asks again, a hint of something else creeping into his tone.

Tim turns away from him, reaching for his bag, "No. I'm not interested in anyone from my school."

"Well that's vague."

Tim give a half-shrug, "Don't jump through any more windows anytime soon."

"Hey," Jason calls as Tim reaches the door. The boy turns back, expression awkward and open, "Thanks."

Tim looks uncomfortable, "It was nothing."

"…do you need a ride or something?"

"No." Tim pauses, "Do you?"

"Why would I need a ride? I'm in my safe house."

"I…I don't know."

"You are so _weird_." Jason slides off the gurney, walking over to Tim. Standing this close, Jason feels like he towers over the boy. He ruffles Tim's hair, smirking at the squawk it gets him. "If I let you stay the night will you stop moping?"

"I'm not _moping_!" Tim protests, flattening his hair.

"When you get weird it means you're moping. You can stay the night if you want, but there's only one bed."

"I'm not." Tim frowns. "I just. I wish you." He stops, sighing in frustration.

Jason rolls his eyes. Leaning down, he brushes his lips against Tim's jawline, moving down until his mouth rests against the pulse-point in Tim's throat (it's hammering, by the way). He idly sucks a mark into the skin, keeping Tim pinned to the door with his weight. By the time he's done, Tim's bag is on the floor and his hands are clutched in the fabric of Jason's shirt.

"You wish," Jason says when he pulls away, "that I would stop insinuating that you like anyone that isn't me."

Tim's cheeks are flushed, and he nods hurriedly, "_Yes_."

Jason curls his index finger around one of Tim's belt loops and tugs him forward, pulling him along as they head for the tiny twin bed pressed against the far wall. "It's gonna be a tight fit."

"It'll work," Tim replies, swaying slightly when Jason releases him. "We fit together."

Jason pauses, evaluating the statement more than he should be. They really do, and that makes him more satisfied it should. Jason wonders when he became such a sap. Probably around the same time Tim fell asleep wearing Jason's jacket a few months back.

"Yeah," He finally answers Tim, "I guess we do."


	3. Safe and Warm

Tim is used to being the smallest person in the room. Every boy in his class is taller than him, along with half the girls. His parents aren't very tall either, so he isn't sure if he's ever going to hit a growth spurt. He's used to feeling like he can be swallowed by an entire room. By an entire city.

Jason, though, makes him feel the smallest.

Jason is big. Big and tall. He's got more muscle than Tim will ever have in his entire life and then some. He's heavy from it, mattress and cushions sinking under his weigh when he flops backwards in them. He's taller than Tim by a lot, something like seven inches.

Jason's clothes cover Tim like blankets. He's sure Jason doesn't know he's tried them on, but sometimes when he's waiting for Jason to come back from his business he gets curious. The jackets all reach mid-thigh on him, sleeves falling well past his wrists. The shirts fit like dresses and the pants make him look ridiculous. Jason's clothes don't fit him.

He dwarves Tim when they're standing side-by-side. Tim has to crane his neck to see Jason's face when they're facing each other. He pats Tim's head and ruffles his hair and calls him 'kid' like Tim _isn't_ running around on rooftops and figuring out the secret identity of every superhero on the planet.

Tim just wants to surge back, to demand Jason open his eyes. He's not a kid. He's young, yes, but so are all of Gotham's children. He knows what he's doing. He just wants Jason to look at him and not see a little boy to tease and poke at.

He gets mad at Jason a lot. Jason makes fun of him for idolizing Robin. Batman. Teases Tim about his day life. His friends from school. General things that chip away at Tim's learned shell. Tim never shows it. He can't. He can't let Jason think he's hurting Tim's feelings. Jason is angry and tired and hurt, but he's not a bully. Tim doesn't want him to think he is.

So Tim follows him around Gotham, taking pictures and being helpful when he can. He learns to make a decent stitch, learns how to bandage a bullet wound, learns how to keep cuts from being infected. He learns things about Jason. He learns that Jason is a bleeding heart, that he takes food to various shelters around the slums for kids. He learns that Jason visits orphanages with the money he gets from gang leaders. He learns that Jason isn't the monster he tries to make himself out to be.

Tim learns a lot, and then he falls in love.

He doesn't know if it's real love. He's never _seen_ real love (his parents were never home, and his step-mother is nice but there's not _love_ there) so he isn't sure if he can even feel it. Maybe he's in love with the idea of loving Jason. Maybe he's in love with Jason. Tim doesn't know, and he isn't a good liar (not to Jason anyway), so he stops going out at night.

Stops taking pictures.

Stops looking for Batman.

He hides everything in an old cardboard box in the back of his closet. The albums. The camera. He only keeps one thing out, and worn jacket that Jason stopped using once he found the leather one he wears now. He wears it to school (the older kids make fun of him because of the hole in both pockets) and around the house (his parents have no idea where he got it. Dana wants him to throw it out. He's saved it from the bin countless times) and to bed (no one knows that).

After a while it loses its smell, Jason's smell, but it still reminds Tim of him. Makes him feel small. Never in a bad way. Jason's never made him feel small in a _bad_ way. It's…well, Tim doesn't _like_ feeling short, but it's nice. He feels surrounded by a rough, smokey hug. It's safety and warmth.

Jason is safety and warmth.

Tim misses going out at night, but he can't risk Jason finding out. He doesn't want to lose Jason.

Still, it's a little lonely.

Tim shifts, pulling his covers closer. Jason's jacket is warm around him, rubbing against his skin in a comforting way. His book is open on his lap, words readable by the moonlight streaming through his window. Iago is raving about Othello when Tim's window is suddenly pulled open.

He scampers back on his bed, ready to scream if he has to, when he more or less recognizes the loping mass climbing through the window. "Jason!" He hisses, pulling his book to safety as Jason sinks down across from him, decked out in full Red Hood regalia.

"Sup, kiddo?" Jason leans back against the window, resting his elbow on the sill. "Haven't seen you around in a while."

"What are you doing here?"

Jason yawns, scratching the side of his neck, "Like I said, haven't seen you around in a while. Thought something might have happened." He eyes the book in Tim's grip, "Othello? Really? Thought you'd be more of a King Henry guy."

Tim frowns, tossing his book to the side, "Nothing happened, I just…school and stuff."

"Uh-huh," Jason doesn't sound convinced, "Look, I don't do this often but if I did some-" He pauses, staring at Tim in slight fascination. "Is that my jacket?"

Tim looks down, fingers barely peeking out from the dark red sleeves. "Um. You didn't seem to miss it when I took it, so…"

"How long have you had it?"

"…a few months." Tim replies quietly.

Jason makes a strangled groaning kind of noise in the back of his throat that turns into a sigh. "Look, I did come here for another reason. You said the Bat hasn't caught on to you yet. That's half true. Batgirl came asking about you the other day."

"Batgirl?" Tim blinks, "Which one?"

"The Black Bat."

"_Cassandra Cain knows who I am_?"

"Yeah, apparently. She asked me where my little shadow was. Thought I did something to you."

Tim makes a face, "You wouldn't hurt me."

Jason blinks, lips slightly parted. "You…" He shakes his head with a gruff laugh, "Wow. Alright."

"What?" Tim frowns.

"I just…don't even know what to do with you, kid." Jason moves, sitting on the sill and looking ready to leave.

"My _name_ is _Tim_."

"I know."

"Um…Jay?"

Jason pauses, one leg out the window. "Yeah?"

"Um…thanks." Tim twists his fingers together, "For checking on me. I know nothing happened but…" He shrugs, "If something had, I'm glad someone cares." He pauses, letting the words hover, "Um, did you want your jacket back?"

Jason stares for a moment, hesitating before replying, "Nah. Keep it. It looks good on you."

Tim freezes, cheeks flaring.

"And, uh, you're welcome." Jason adds, "I guess."

He swings out the window, the faint smell of smoke and gunpowder lingering in Tim's bed. Tim hurries to the window, peering out as Jason reaches the ground and hurries to where his bike is still running.

Tim doesn't imagine Jason looking back before he drives off into the night, back towards Gotham and her darkness. Tim sits back, letting the cold air seep into the room. He snaps out of his daze, quickly slamming the window closed before the last traces of Jason can escape his room.


	4. Little Problems

Against his better judgment, Jason gets used to the kid following him around at night. He gets used to having someone waiting at a safe house with bandages and tea with honey and concern. It's like having an Alfred around, only Tim is way cuter.

There are a few problems, though.

Like Tim's giant crush on him, or the way he lights up when Jason comes into the room. People don't _do_ that. People don't light up over him.

Like Tim's _age_. He's a kid. He's just barely the age Jason was when he became Robin – officially. He's young, and naive, and he's too young to _get_ it. To get why Jason is angry and bitter and tired of it all.

Like the simple fact that, really, Jason isn't good enough for Tim. Good _for_ him, even. Jason isn't good for anyone.

But then the kid has to go and wear his clothes.

It's an old jacket. Jason probably should have thrown it out as soon as he'd moved in to Wayne Manor back when, and he's not sure how Tim even _found_ it. But once he slips and tells the kid it looks good on him, Tim wears it _everywhere_.

Actually, Tim starts showing up everywhere.

He's stirring honey into tea by the time Jason limps back to his current safe house from patrol.

He's curling up on the couch in the downtown bunker he repossessed from the Irish Mob (and, really, Jason is only _specific_ because of how many damned mobs there _are_ in Gotham).

He's picking glass out of Jason's jacket and sewing up patches in his pants and sewing up _Jason_ after a while.

And Jason lets him. And hates himself a bit for it, because Tim could be doing something better than scrambling around in the dark with someone like him.

Eventually, though, Tim is caught. One of the Bats finds out about him. At least it's Cassandra, and not the big man, but she's just as concerned…._disapproving_ as Bruce would be.

"He's not…" She had struggled with the words, eventually settling on 'like us'. Jason knew that already. He knew – knows – that Tim is so much more. He can do _good_ someday. He's got the resources and the intentions. The only thing Jason is going to do is get him killed.

Still, no matter how much Jason knows he should force Tim away. Should drive him off like he's done with the rest of…_everyone_. He can't.

He can't drive Tim away when he's holding out a cup of tea with red cheeks demanding that Jason take better care of himself, or at least drink something healthy once in a while.

He can't force Tim to stop coming out when he wakes up by rolling off the couch and gets so embarrassed that he zips up Jason's jacket and pulls the hood up over his head.

He can't keep himself from wanting to pin Tim to the nearest surface and kiss the hell out of him when he lights up the way he does.

So he lets Tim continue to trail after him at night. He lets Tim take his pictures and ask his questions and nurse his crush. He lets Tim stitch him up and wrap his in bandages and mother him into being healthier.

He lets all this happen until he can't take being static anymore, and he takes one look at Tim – arms cradling his head, body curled up on the old sofa – and kisses him awake.

Tim stares up at him, first sleepily, then with wide, disbelieving eyes.

"Morning, Sleeping Beauty."


End file.
